ANSWERED PRAYER

Dear God

Where is the lake of my childhood?

Here you go my dear!

Dear God

Where is that refreshing breeze

Here you go my dear!

Dear God

Where are those trees and green grass and wilderness that I love so much

Here you go my dear

Dear God

Where are the birds i used to know the names of

Here you go my dear

Dear God

Where is the blue sky with the white clouds that I used to lie on the grass and watch float by

Here you go my dear

Dear God

Where is that first star that knew my deepest desire

Here you go my dear

Dear God

Where is the Sun

that the newborn lamb in all its innocence wakes up to?

Here you go my dear

Dear God

Where is the Moon

That I tell stories about to my grandson as I feed him his dinner

Here you go my dear

Dear God 

Where is the mist that I used to cut through to go to school

here you go my dear

Dear God

Where is that beautiful rain that came as a blessing

Here you go my dear

And how do I know it's all from you?

Look up child

I'm that formation in the cloud

REQUEST FROM A PUBLISHER

 

Dear Writer,

Please don't achieve anything in life - 

I try to be lenient, but it's all so inconvenient

Don't marry and have kids and be a husband or a wife

Don't get an education, go to school or to college

What's the point of all that knowledge?

Don't work, don't earn, don't teach

don't clean the barns or be a priest and preach, 

Don't be social and contribute

Don't have role models and pay tribute

Don't be philanthropic

Boy! That's a WHOLE OTHER TOPIC!! 

Don't, don't, don't ever write to anthologies and get published

Don't bring out books...well may be one or two

Don't be nominated and win awards

Pretend you have the flu if you do

Don't have hobbies other than to write

Don't sing, don't click, don't bite or fly a kite

And certainly don't be from Delhi, Paris, London or Ohio -

You see, I just want a non-existent bio.

FULL LIFE

 

This poem isn't

about childhood - 

fleet-footed, hair flying;

Or about school days

books, teachers and homework

plaits and ribbons and uniforms 

and pranks;

Or about teenage and first love

and first heartbreak 

and the horrific pimple outbreak;

Or about true love

marriage

children

grey hair, falling teeth

grandchildren 

and the growing medicine cabinet;

Or about a million small and big things

that go to make up a life well lived....

This poem is about

an old woman

reminiscing.

NO, IT DOESN'T

 

My rolling up in a pile 

amidst my blankets;

hugging my pillow close;

the darkened windows;

my apathy to food

or wanting too much;

and water-can-waits;

friends are such nuisances - 

so much drama!

Going out?

Pish!

Too much bother!

And I've seen this series before -

they're all the same.

I'll never lose weight;

and anyways he wasn't my boyfriend -

he just liked her more...

move on...

No it doesn't - 

you're imagining it.

Nothing I've said

has anything to do with depression.

one who was so good at 

swallowing feelings

facing life with stoic acceptance

how easily I laugh nowadays!

how easily I cry!

I break even

not knowing how to live

not knowing how to die

 

THESE FEBRUARIES

These Februaries

came in a row

one brought me love

one saw me grow

one took a toll

as it took my

one away

and left me crying

every day.

One brought me

the biggest gift of all

the love from my heart

in the form of a baby girl.

Then all Februaries

were spent in celebration

till one February

brought a funny sensation

my roving heart

that wandered out so much

had come home it seemed

if there really is such.

Februaries passed

and you'd think

aglow

well,

if you think that -

you just don't know!

Love moved to like

and like moved to hate

before either of us knew it

we were at the gate.

And today

is the last February - 

the last knot to untie

see how with the wind

the bits of love fly!

 

THE ORIGINAL PIED PIPERS

 

Parents

the Original Pied Pipers

made children appear - 

and when they did,

made them crawl,

dance to their tunes,

sleep to their lullabies,

read to their angry tones.

Dressed them, 

poor mannequin dolls - 

hair their way

clothes their way.

The mannequins

now turned 

walkie-talkies at parents' bidding - 

paraded in front of uncles, aunts, 'the whole school'

'participated in 'This Got Talent'

'That Got Talent'

twisting bodies and minds

forced to count and read

before they could walk and talk properly.

Complaints piled up

"your child is running down the corridor"

"your child laughs too loudly"

"your child cannot pronounce properly"

"your child is a dunce"

And Pied Piper parents

hold all the answers - 

grades, grades, grades

concentrate, study -

"my child is a genius!"

"my child is an engineer!"

"my child has a job!"

"my child is getting married!"

Somewhere in the midst of it all - 

So silently, no one noticed

the mountain had slid open

and both childhood and children

had disappeared.